


Saviour Complex

by MurdersintheMorgue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Shining - Stephen King
Genre: F/M, Gen, Ilvermorny, M/M, NOT a snape redemption fic, also a lot of stuff about, and american wizarding world???, and then it kinda got away from me, basically i was like, but its slow burn so give it time bby, but make it divination, i just wanna give harry that one english teacher everyone loves, i mean actually yes there will be romance later, its self indulgent ok leave me alone, so she just kinda is the competent adult that would have solved everything in ootp, the romance is?? a maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29806899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurdersintheMorgue/pseuds/MurdersintheMorgue
Summary: Dalia Raycroft had known her whole life that three fifths of her family would be dead by the time she was twenty two. But having her estranged brother and father's best friend corner her at the funeral and give her a position in a war she wasn't even really aware had been happening? Somehow her gifts in Divination had forgotten to let her know about that one.Now she's agreed to be the new Divination teacher at Hogwarts, is getting worrying phone calls from her mentor about how she's in trouble, and has been burdened with the task of befriending the sourly Potions master.Oh, and there's some madwoman making kids carve words into their hands, and a boy in her office claiming that the fate of the world rests on his shoulders.And don't even get her started on said boy's super sexy older godfather. She doesn't want to think too hard about that last bit.--(Mentions canon characters from The Shining, but they can be read as ocs if you haven't read/watched the movie!)
Relationships: Background, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, One Sided - Relationship, Severus Snape/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, implied
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> EHEM welcome to my self indulgent fic. I just wanted to give Harry that one person he can rely on and won't die and makes everything better for him ok!!! Like this isn't exactly a 'happy ending' story but it DEF is a fix it one alright.  
> Also I am not?? imagining anyone from the movies when im writing this?? because listen all the actors are fantastic but sirius, remus & snape are supposed to be in their like mid thirties not their fifties ok  
> so basically in my head  
> sirius black is played by ben barnes  
> remus lupin is played by andrew garfield  
> severus snape is play by louis garrel  
> ALSO THIS IS NOT A SNAPE REDEMPTION STORY!! sorry but snape is an incel and that will!! be covered it just takes a bit for dalia to notice  
> ok xoxo hope u enjoy and also pls leave comments because i love them even tho i drop fics constantly yikes

**ONE.**

* * *

Dalia Raycroft internally groaned when she saw Alastor Moody and her older brother Evander making their way towards her. ‘Seriously?’ her inner voice grumbled, ‘at our father’s funeral?’ 

Dalia and Evander had never been close; not since she had crawled into his bed seventeen years ago and told him that their mother was about to be killed by Death Eaters. He’d never understood why it had been him, and not their father, that Dalia had gone to. Dalia hadn’t understood either for a long time, but eventually she realized it was because even back then, at five years old, she had known it would only end up being the two of them. Dalia had proven throughout the years that she always had a way of knowing things like that; who was going to die, who would be left, how people would react.

Alastor reached her first, despite his wooden leg, and his magic eye rolled in it’s socket frantically. 

“Wotcher, Dalia. Look at how you’ve grown.” The man said. Dalia offered an appropriate smile, and smoothed out the silk black dress she wore. Alastor had been her father’s best friend back at Hogwarts, and they’d fought in the war together. After the attack, though, Edmund Raycroft had moved his family to America. He figured that being across an ocean from the war was as good a place as any to continue raising his three children. 

“Always a pleasure, uncle Moody.” She said back politely, electing to ignore her brother as he came up behind the older man’s shoulder. Evander- now an auror- had left the US after their middle sister, Ophelia, was killed during her cursebreaker training three years before. He believed vehemently that the man who had murdered their mother was still out there, and had been the reason for Ophelia’s death as well. Despite knowing that he was right, Dalia was furious at Evander for leaving her all alone with their grief stricken father, and let him know the moment he’d arrived that it was his fault the man had drunk himself to death- not hers.

“Yes, well.” Alastor said awkwardly, glancing between the two tense siblings, “Wishing it was under different circumstances, of course. Now, Dalia, Evander here and I were wondering if we could have a word with you. He’s told me you’re very proficient in Divination.” 

Dalia shot a sharp glance towards Evander, who kept his eyes stubbornly on her chin. 

“Yes.” Dalia relented when Evander proved he would not meet her gaze. “Yes, I seem to have a knack for it.” 

Alastor nodded and gestured for them to walk into the garden. It had been a fine day for a funeral; sunny, and warm, and Dalia turned her face towards the sky as they maneuvered themselves a ways off from the lingering grievers. Edmund Raycroft, their father, had been an esteemed auror back in England as well as a good member of the MACUSA, and his funeral was full of all sorts of interesting people who had come a long way to pay Dalia and Evander their respects. 

“Did your father ever mention a group called ‘the order’ to you?” Alastor was asking, his voice hissing and hushed, his eye rolling towards anyone that happened to walk by. Dalia glanced questioningly at Evander, who had finally found the courage to meet her gaze, and he looked at her with a hard and serious expression. Dalia shook her head a little absently. 

“No- um, no I don’t- I’ve never heard-” She muttered, but the name had struck a chord with her. She knew it would be important. She knew that this talk would be changing her life. Alastor hummed gruffly, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her close. 

“Alright, then, Dalia, this is very serious business. I trust you’ve got a good head on those shoulders, and understand that what I’m about to tell you is some very dangerous information.” 

Dalia blanched, looking wildly between the last two members of her family. 

“What’s all this about? What’s going on?” Something clenched in her stomach, and her eyes found Evander’s of their own accord. “What have you gotten yourself into?” 

“Oh, no, don’t be silly girl. Evander here had been nothing but brave and thorough in his work. We’ve kept one another quite safe, haven’t we boy?” Alastor grinned up at the man proudly, and Evander seemed to preen under the praise. Dalia quirked a brow; she knew that Evander would suffer with the lack of a strong fatherly figure in his life, but it was amusing to see the repercussions so obvious before her. 

“So then, what’s this order?” She prodded. Alastor turned back to her, nodding absently. 

“Yes, well, I suppose you’ve been hearing about the attacks going on back home?” 

“In England?” 

“Where else?” 

“Ilvermorny.” Dalia said with a tense tone. Behind Alastor, Evander scoffed. The man between them appeared to ignore it. 

“Your real home was always England, Dalia. A right shame that Edmund put you in that bullshite knock off yankee school and not Hogwarts, like the real wizards you are.” Alastor didn’t seem to notice how Dalia bristled at the insult to her schooling, but Evander did, and moved as if to put a hand on her shoulder. “Regardless, there’s been an uprising, love. Rumors that Voldemort is back. And, well, I had hoped that perhaps you’d be willing to follow in your father’s footsteps and join the rebellion. Follow in your-” He hesitated, “-your brother and sister’s footsteps as well.” 

Dalia froze. 

“What do you mean, in my sister’s footsteps?” 

“Ophelia was a part of the Order, Dalia.” Evander finally seemed to have found his voice, but appeared to regret it the moment his sister’s eyes found him again. 

“A part of what?” Dalia hissed. “You- you were supposed to keep her safe. You were- so it- it was your fault! I was right! And you- you made me believe-” She knew she was becoming hysterical, but it had been so long since they had properly addressed Ophelia’s death, and the whole time Evander had made it feel as if she had been at fault again, that once more she hadn’t told someone in time, that she had let their sister die. 

“How was I supposed to know she would go and get herself killed?” Evander said between gritted teeth, hands balling into fists at his side. Dalia let out a long and controlled breath. 

“Because,” She said carefully, calmly, just like she had practiced with her father after her bouts of rage would become too much for anyone to handle, “I told you she would.” 

“Just like you told me that mom would die. Just like you knew dad was dead before he was found.” Evander’s tone was sharp and accusatory. Dalia bit back an angry shriek. 

“Yes.” She managed out, eyes narrow and hands quivering. “Yes, just like that.” 

“Well, sounds like you would prove useful, love.” Alastor said brightly, obviously trying to ignore the tension between the siblings. Dalia wrenched her gaze back to her father’s dear friend, and managed to soften the look as his real eye seemed glazed over and wistful. 

“What would you need me to do?” She finally relented, feeling all fight leave her body. It didn’t matter what happened now; the things she had seen as a child and always feared in the future had come and gone. Dalia had had fleeting predictions between then and now, but never as strong and real as what she had known as a child; never the cold, empty prediction that three fifths of her family would be dead by the time she was twenty two. 

“Well, Dalia, it isn’t a secret that you’re a bright and talented girl. There’s a lot of talk that you might have the gift of sight.” Alastor studied her face as he spoke, and blinked when Dalia shook her head. 

“No- I don’t. What I have isn’t sight. It’s- well, it’s Intuition.” There was a lack of Divination education in the wizarding world, and the reminder made Dalia frustrated every time she thought about it. “Have you ever heard of Dick Hallorann?” 

“Mister Hallorann?” Evander spoke absently, and Dalia rolled her eyes. 

“Yes, technically. He’s the one who taught me about my- my Intuition.”

“The Shining.” 

“No.” Dalia frowned. “The Shining is super different.” 

“What’re you two going on about?” Alastor interrupted, sounding short tempered. Dalia bit her cheek to refrain from saying something rude. “Dalia, look. Dumbledore is looking for a new Divination professor at Hogwarts. We believe that the Ministry is going to try and stunt the education process there and well, we need more unsuspecting characters on our side. We happen to know-” He gestured to Evander and himself, “That Dumbledore is planning on asking you.” 

“Me?” Dalia repeated in shock. “But I- I mean- I haven’t even completed my teaching license. Mister Hallorann’s only beginning to help me specialize in Divination and-” 

Alastor shook his head, putting up a hand and effectively interrupting her. 

“No offense, darling, but we’re at war here. Nobody cares about licenses anymore. We need more eyes- more ears. There’s whispers that the Minister is trying to kick Dumbledore out, and he’s desperate to make sure he has as much intel of what’s happening there as he can before he goes.” 

Dalia looked between the two of them. “So then, why-” 

“Are we here before Dumbledore?” Alastor supplied. Dalia nodded, and Alastor sighed, physically glancing around now and then leaning close to the girl, gripping the shoulder he still held tightly. “Listen, Dalia, and repeat this to no one. Evander and I have reason to suspect that Dumbledore might not be telling us the whole story-” 

“We _know_ he isn’t. Dumbledore is a fucking monster.” Evander spat suddenly, and Alastor shot him a sharp look. Dalia blinked, brow furrowing. 

“I thought he was a good guy. Dad always said-” 

“Yes, well, that’s because dad didn’t know that Dumbledore is the reason mom was killed.” Evander snapped. A tense silence proceeded. Alastor looked like he was about to snap Evander’s neck, and Dalia suddenly felt faint. Dumbledore? But wasn’t he The Good Guy? The leader of The Good Guys? That’s what her dad had always told her. She couldn’t remember the man’s face, but she knew she had met him, at her mother’s funeral. The memory brought the taste of lemon drops, and the color purple. 

“So you- you want me to say no?” She finally managed to get out. Alastor shook his head. 

“No, love, we want you to say yes. Play your part- be a good member of the Order. Fulfill whatever task he gives you. But we also-” And now he brought his voice down to a whisper despite the fact that the three of them were the only people still in the garden, “-we want you to report back to us. Just the two of us, and nobody else. Tell us everything; everything you hear, everything you learn, leave nothing unseen or secret. Even the smallest detail- you let us know right away. He’ll have you working with that bloody Snape, I know he will. You befriend him. Bloody marry him for all I care-” At this, Evander made a small noise. Alastor ignored him. “-But you let us know everything either man does. Dumbledore so much as breathes suspiciously, and I expect one of us to hear about it.” 

Dalia stood still for a moment, keeping her eyes on their feet, processing the information. 

“You want me to be a double agent?” 

“We need you to be.” Evander said, his voice suddenly pleading. “I can’t lose anyone else, Dalia. Not after what happened with Ophelia. Not after dad.” 

“And you-” Alastor said suddenly, his eye shining with interest, “You will know, won’t you. You’ll sense it if one of them lies.” 

Dalia paused. Mr. Hallorann’s voice rang in her ears, ‘Don’t overextend your gifts. Use them when you need them.’ 

“Yes.” Her voice sounded small. “Yes, I’ll know. I always know.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The funeral had been in May, and it wasn’t until the middle of July that Dalia heard from anyone in the Wizarding World of England. 

She had taken up residence at her father’s house after his death. It was a small place, in the suburbs of New Jersey, with a big garden she was trying to revive and an ugly rug fixed to the living room floor by a Sticking Charm Dalia couldn’t bring herself to undo. 

It was a Thursday afternoon, and Dalia had decided to walk to and from the grocery store, as it was probably the coolest afternoon to happen since the first of June. She hadn’t been surprised to find an elderly man leaning over her white fence, peering at the recovering flower beds on the other side. She’d had an inkling he’d be there today. Mr. Hallorann had called her earlier that morning. Their conversation had been brief, but he’d been worried that he wouldn’t see her for a while, and that she wouldn’t be safe. She reassured him that she’d call him once a week after she left. 

What did surprise Dalia was Dumbledore’s appearance. For some reason, after doing a little research on the man (and by research, she looked him up in a history book once and promptly lost interest in anything she found there) Dalia had worked him up to be this figure of authority. In her mind, he’d be wearing a suit. Maybe cleanly shaven. Wearing spectacles, for sure. Really, the opposite of this brightly garbed, long bearded twinkle eyed old man peering at where tulips should bloom in four to six weeks. 

“Hi.” Dalia uttered as she approached, putting on what Ophelia used to call her ‘Flattering Old Men’ voice. “Can I help you, sir?” 

The old man gazed at her with clear eyes, and the gaze made Dalia shift uncomfortably. 

“Hello, Dalia Raycroft. I assume you already know who I am?” His voice was gentle, and his gaze was kind. Dalia had a hard time wrapping her head around the idea that his man was somehow responsible for her mother’s death. He seemed as though he couldn’t harm a fly. She inclined her head slightly, however, and flicked the gate open, gesturing for him to follow her through it. 

“So, Albus Dumbledore,” The woman said sweetly as they entered her humble home. She hadn’t changed much since her father’s death; the figures beaming down from photographs were still mostly faces she couldn’t name, and most of the furniture was mismatched and cheap. “-can I offer you something to drink? Iced tea? Or I- I made a new batch of lavender lemonade this morning.” 

“Oh, well, a glass of lemonade sounds lovely Dalia, thank you.” The man replied earnestly, maintaining his passive smile as he examined things around the home, peering into the photographs, appraising the random art her father had cluttered the walls with. Dalia complied, pouring them both a glass before going about putting away her groceries. Dumbledore sat at the island awkwardly after Dalia placed one glass there. He took it in both hands, and watched as she maneuvered around the kitchen.

“Well?” She finally snapped, losing her sweet tone, “To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

Dumbledore blinked, and then suddenly his passive smile turned genuine. 

“Goodness, you look so much like your sister.” 

The comment was unexpected, and Dalia felt slightly taken aback. She knew she looked like her sister- often, towards the end of the older girl’s life, people had assumed they were twins- but it had been years since she’d heard the comment. She shifted uncomfortably, placing her hands on the island between them and picking at a nick in the wooden surface. 

“You knew Ophelia?” She asked in a small voice. Dumbledore hummed. 

“I worked with her closely, actually. A pity what happened- tragedy really.” 

Dalia looked up sharply, remembering the expression on Evander’s face when he spoke of Dumbledore. But she said nothing. The man took her silence as a sign to continue. 

“Dalia, have you heard about what is happening in England?” 

“Not much, but I’ve heard.” 

“Do you know who Voldemort was? What your parents were doing when they were your age?”

Dalia shifted again, unsure how much she should let him know. 

“Barely.” She finally admitted, “I know that Voldemort was bad. I know that the group who killed mom were called Death Eaters and that they- they were like, his followers? Or something.” She found herself snorting at a sudden memory, “My um- my friends at school used to call them wizard nazis.” 

Dumbledore raised an amused brow, and Dalia cleared her throat awkwardly. 

“Like, the no majs that-” 

“I know what Nazis are, Dalia.” 

Dalia felt her face flush at the reprimanding tone. How was she supposed to be a teacher when she still felt like a student herself? There was a beat of silence after that, and Dalia continued to pick at the wooden counter. 

“Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?” Dumbledore finally asked. Dalia bit her cheek, and then shrugged. 

“Kind of? Maybe? I think I’ve heard the name.”   
“Your whole family has been a part of it. Save you.” 

Dalia started to chew on the cheek between her teeth, avoiding Dumbledore’s gaze. 

“Yeah, well, we uh- we have communication problems, I guess. Now more than ever.” She smiled a little at her joke, but when she finally did look at Dumbledore’s face, the smile fell. She let out a heavy sigh, pushing a hand through her hair. “Look, I guess, I kind of know. You’re like, the rebellion against Wizard Hitler, right? And he might be back? Or- I guess, people don’t believe he’s back? I’ve never been one to follow politics of other countries very closely. You know, we have this whole problem here with wizards of color being-” 

She stopped when Dumbledore held up a hand. Her cheek found its way between her teeth again, and she narrowed her eyes at the older man, feeling a little offended at being interrupted. 

“Dalia, I’ve come to offer you a job.” 

“A job?” Dalia repeated in faux curiosity. Dumbledore pinned her with a gaze. 

“But you knew that already.” He said in a tone that suggested amusement. Dalia shrugged. 

“Sort of.” 

“Would you teach at Hogwarts for me, Dalia?” 

Dalia frowned, now chewing on her lip. 

“Aren’t I a little underqualified? Like, I still call Mr. Hallorann after every little thing and-” 

“I think you’re plenty qualified.” Dumbledore said firmly. Dalia faltered slightly. Alastor’s directions echoed in her head. She took in a deep breath through her nose, and then nodded slowly. 

“Alright.” She tried her best to summon a confident tone, “Yes. I will teach at Hogwarts. Just-” She faltered as Dumbledore smiled. “-For how long?” 

“Oh, I think, for a year. We will see how it goes.” 

“Just a year?” 

Dumbledore nodded. Dalia released the deep breath through her mouth. 

“Okay. Yeah, just a year. That works.” 

“And the Order?”

“What about it?” 

“Will you join?” 

Dalia paused. Then- “What would I have to do?”

  
  


Alastor was right; Dumbledore wanted her to keep an eye on Snape. On Harry Potter. On anything that he might not get to see. Dalia had agreed without thinking too hard about it; she had no idea who this Snape was, but when Dumbledore told her how old Harry Potter was, Dalia’s heart had immediately clenched. Keeping an eye on a Potions teacher and a teenage boy didn’t seem too hard. Hell, she’d been keeping an eye out for Danny Torrance- Mr. Hallorann’s no-maj born favorite- for years, and the boy was two years older than her. 

Keeping an eye out for people was easy for Dalia- especially with her gift. All she needed was to read her cards, and she’d be able to know exactly how they were doing at any given moment. She’d been able to call friends when they were lonely, or help heartbreak be softened before it happened. Reading cards had been her little party trick for years, and her old, worn tarot deck was like a dear friend to converse with when she was feeling alone. 

The deck called out to her after Dumbledore left. Dalia knew she should call Mr. Hallorann, but her cards wanted to speak with her first.   
They buzzed happily when she popped them out of their marble box, humming in response to her magic. She shuffled them lazily, closing her eyes, focusing on her intent. Then, they began to speak. 

‘This isn’t your story.’ The first card told her. Dalia huffed. She pulled another. ‘Trouble. Death. Chaos.’ It said. 

‘You always say that.’ She thought stubbornly, flipping over another card. This one made her pause. It was the lovers. The lovers represented choices, and the cards told her this is what they meant. There will be a choice, they said, a choice between two paths; two loves. Dalia tapped a finger on it thoughtfully. 


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO.**

* * *

“I just don’t get why I have to be here.” Dalia grumbled around her finger, chewing on the nail anxiously. Evander rolled his eyes and smacked the hand away from her mouth. 

“Dalia, it’s an organization. You can’t just be some mysterious figure that we vouch for. These people don’t fuck around alright.” 

The woman glared up at the Black Manor- Grimmauld Place, Evander called it- as if it had somehow offended her. “Can’t they just… Trust me by association? I mean, they knew Ophelia- they know you. They knew our parents…” She trailed off, hand moving slowly back up to her mouth. Evander grabbed her wrist. 

“Just- stop. Look.” He dragged the other hand over his face, letting out a long breath. Dalia felt a pang of guilt as she noticed just how dark the bags under his eyes had gotten. He looked older, as if the past few months had been years instead. “The Order they’ve- they’ve lost a lot of members, okay? Most of the people fighting are children. Children that you-” He shook her wrist for effect, “-are in charge of keeping an eye on, alright?”

`“Children?” Dalia echoed, and Evander nodded enthusiastically. “What- like, child soldiers?” 

Evander let out a harsh laugh, and then he was also glaring up at the building as if it had offended him. 

“Yeah- something like that.” He muttered. Dalia finally let out a dramatic sigh. 

“Alright, big brother, let’s get this bullshit over with.” 

  
  


The hallway was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Evander had informed her that there was a cursed painting, but he’d also told her that there were about five or six teenagers staying in the house at this time, so she’d anticipated at least a little more noise as they moved towards the kitchen. There was definitely muffled conversation coming through the door, and Dalia caught sight of a head of ginger hair ducking back from the bannister as Evander rapped his knuckles twice. The conversation seemed to pause, and then a disgruntled looking Alastor swung the door open. 

“Ah, Raycrofts! Come in, come in.” He said in his usual gruff way, ushering them in. Dalia balked at the crowded table, consisting mostly of men. She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as Evander introduced her. Dumbledore, who she’d noticed sitting at the head of the table, stood and announced what she was there for, and that they all vouched for her. The room was silent for a moment afterwards, and Dalia swiped a nervous hand down her face, wishing that someone would say something. 

“Merlin, you look just like her.” Came a man’s voice. He sounded sad, and Dalia chewed on her tongue a bit as she surveyed the faces before her, trying to determine who’d spoken. Dumbledore was smiling at her, eyes twinkling, but she knew it hadn’t been him. 

“Um- I- like- Ophelia?” She said lamely, reaching to scratch at the back of her neck. A man who looked probably around her age, maybe a bit older, stood up suddenly. His chair clattered to the floor, and Dalia blinked at his steady gaze. He was gorgeous, sure, but the intensity of it made her nervous. His hair was the same color as the head she’d seen earlier, and she wondered absently if they were related in some way. 

“Yeah. I- Hi. I’m Bill Weasley.” He moved to her side quickly, sticking out a hand. “Ophelia and were- well, we- we worked together. She was- fuck. She was a fantastic person.” 

Dalia took it tentatively, pretending not to notice the way that Evander had stiffened at her side. 

“She was pretty awesome.” Dalia said dismissively with a firm shake. His blue eyes studied her face as he held her hand a moment longer than needed- and then dropped it, cheeks tinting pink , as if he’d just realized what he was doing. Someone at the table had cleared their throat. Another man had stood- definitely older than Dalia, or Evander, with long black hair and scruff that made him look sexy in a rugged sort of way. 

Sexy? That was new. He was probably a little too old to be thought of in such a way. Dalia frantically chided herself as her hands grew a little clammy, trying her best to maintain the easy demeanor she’d presented herself with. 

“Welcome to my home, Dalia. I hope you’ll make yourself comfortable.” He was saying as he made his way over, extending a hand as well, paired with a warm smile. “You can call me Sirius.” 

“Seriously?” Dalia found herself saying without thought, and the man’s smile grew, a chorus of scoffs and groans emitting around the room. Dalia took Sirius’s hand, and worked very hard to not think about how it engulfed hers, how nice he smelled, how nice his voice was. 

“Seriously.” Sirius supplied with a wink. “Like you already, kid.” 

She faltered at the word. Right then. Kicked right back to where she belonged; too old to be considered a child, too young to be considered an adult. She wondered, once again, how on earth she was supposed to be trusted with teaching a class. 

“Divination?” A taller man said in way of greeting as Sirius moved around Dalia, going to clasp Evander’s shoulder and say something low and gentle behind her. The tall man held out his hand, shoving the other in the pocket of his worn pants. Despite being covering with scars, Dalia found herself ultimately at ease in this man’s presence. Will she have to shake hands with every single person in this room? She hoped not, but took the offered hand anyway. 

“It’s kind of my whole personality.” She replied. He snorted slightly. 

“Those kids are going to eat you alive, then.” The man informed her. Dalia felt her face drain of color and her hand, despite still being in his rather warm one, go cold. He threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t worry. I was a teacher only a couple of years ago. Defense Against the Dark Arts. If you ever need any advice, I’m just a floo call away.” 

“And what do I call you, exactly?” Was she flirting? This man was definitely also Old. But Dalia was too nervous to think her responses through all the way. 

“Lupin. Remus Lupin.” 

“Um- Remus, or Lupin?” 

He tilted his head towards the ceiling, pondering. Her hand was still in his, but the warmth had returned to her fingers. She was sure the color had yet to go back into her cheeks, but she was partly willing it down, desperately fighting away a blush. 

“You can call me Remus.” He settled on, using a teasingly decisive tone. Dalia beamed in relief, and he blinked. 

“I get confused with nicknames.” She confessed. He finally dropped her hand, nodding in the direction Sirius had gone, which was now around the table, padding after a red headed woman who seemed to be supplying the group with lunch. 

“You’re in trouble then. All we do is call one another by nicknames. Well, nowadays, anyway.”   
Dalia sighed, glancing around the room. 

“Fuck, I’m not going to remember anyone’s name.” Her voice sounded whinier than she’d intended. That blush really did creep up now, she could feel the heat of it pooling in her cheeks. She refused to glance in Remus’s direction. In fact, she looked anywhere but, and ended up catching the eye of Bill Weasley, who looked down hurriedly. She raised a brow. That was interesting. What had Ophelia been hiding? And where, exactly, had all of these people been when they’d held her funeral?

“Did you know my sister?” She asked bluntly when the man didn’t respond. He seemed surprised when she looked at him, as if he’d expected her to carry off and continue introductions. 

“Well, a little. Dumbledore had her working in Egypt, mostly, I think. At least, that’s what we’ve been able to badger out of Bill. He seems a little cagey about the whole situation.” 

Dalia bit her cheek, glancing towards the man again, who once again, seemed to have been caught looking. 

“Why didn’t any of you attend her funeral?” Biting her cheek was supposed to stop questions like that. Ah, well. It was out now. 

“Wasn’t quite safe, for us. Well, most of us. Moody must’ve been there, wasn’t he?” 

“I mean yeah, but he’s family.” 

Remus’s eyes twinkled, and Dalia’s gaze flit around his face until it settled resolutely on his nose. “Family? Moody?” 

“Yeah- Alastor and my dad were friends at Hogwarts. He used to come every summer. Highlight of my year as a kid, honestly. Always brought us really cool toys. We don’t have like, wizarding towns or whatever in the US. Or, well, not the same way you guys have here, anyway. No majs and us kind of just like, live all jumbled together, and-” She was ranting, and she knew she was ranting, and she knew she was ranting because she was nervous and really wanted to avoid having to shake another hand and learn another name because it was just far too warm in this room to be touched anyway. It was so crowded. There were so many people, peering at her with curious eyes. So many eyes that belonged to faces that Ophelia had known and Dalia hadn’t. Not that this would be the first thing Ophelia had kept from Dalia. Not that Ophelia had really told Dalia about her life at all, in all honesty. 

“Dalia-” Evander was saying suddenly, interrupting her rant that was seeming to amuse Remus greatly, and effectively shouldering himself in between them. He held a girl by the elbow that Dalia hadn’t noticed before, and she breathed out a relieved breath when their eyes met and a mutual understanding of being about the same age passed between the two of them. The woman, who had shaggy silver hair and grey eyes like Sirius’s, grinned brightly. “Dalia, this is Tonks. You guys are about the same age and- well, I mean, I just- I figured-” Evander seemed to finally realize he’d interrupted a conversation, and looked between Remus and Dalia helplessly as Tonks nudged him in the ribs slightly. 

“You said she’d be too shy to talk to anyone, Raycroft.” 

“She rambles when she’s nervous.” Evander said absently, shuffling his feet, looking in Bill’s direction as if maybe he could find an excuse to join the man. 

“Didn’t seem nervous to me.” Remus said brightly, rolling back on his heels slightly, looking at Dalia with an amused smirk. “No reason for her to have been, anyway. Not when talking to an old bloke like me.” 

“You’re not old.” Tonks snapped teasingly at the same time that Dalia made a face, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“Are you old too, then?” Dalia said lightly towards Tonks. The woman flashed another grin, and suddenly her hair was curling around her shoulders and shimmering to a yellowish blonde. Dalia blinked, watching in fascination. 

“Not old enough, evidently. The hair make you think otherwise?” 

Dalia shook her head. 

“No it- it looked nice. Like, trendy. But it looks nice now too. Um, like, how the fuck did you do that?” 

Tonks threw her head back as she let out a bark of a laugh. Remus and Evander slipped into a conversation beside them, turning away, leaving the two women around the same age to their own devices. 

“I’m a metamorphmagus.” She said simply, as if that explained everything. Dalia supposed it would have if she’d paid more attention in school, or to her father, and so she simply nodded as if she understood perfectly. “Anyway, I really have been dying to have more female company around here. I mean, Molly’s great, and the girls are nice enough, but it’s just-” 

“Nice to be around the same age.” Dalia found the words tumbling from her mouth before she could stop them. They did that sometimes- sentence endings coming out in Dalia’s voice instead of the speaker’s. It was new- Mr. Hallorann had wanted to talk more about it before she left, but they’d run out of time. Tonks looked a little startled, but nodded as her easy going smile came back slowly. 

“Yeah, yeah. Took the words right out of my mouth.” She gave Dalia a playful shoulder nudge, and Dalia eased into the atmosphere, the irony of Tonks’s word choice not lost on her. 

“I do that sometimes.” Dalia supplied honestly. Tonks laughed again, and Dalia didn’t have the heart to mention that she wasn’t joking. 

* * *

  
  


“You’re going to be teaching?” The woman across from Dalia looked incredulously between her and Dumbledore. She’d been seated between him and her brother, who was engaged in an animated conversation with Bill, who sat across from him. The woman, Dalia had learned, was Molly Weasley, Bill’s mother. She had a kind round face with the same watery blue eyes as her son, but they seemed cold and critical as she regarded Dalia. Dalia, feeling slightly taken aback by the response, squared her shoulders and folded her hands on the table. A plate of food sat untouched in front of her. She wasn’t hungry. 

“That’s the plan, yes. Just for a year.” Dumbledore answered before Dalia could think of something to say. She bristled a little at being spoken for, but bit her tongue, so as not to say anything rude. 

“And you’ll be teaching..” Molly asked, her voice lilting with disbelief. 

“Divination.” Dalia tried to sum the word up proudly, but it left her lips sounding weak. She mentally kicked herself in the stomach. Her mouth resumed chewing on her tongue as the answer seemed to relax Molly slightly. 

“Oh, well, that’s not really a very important class now is it.” She said, sounding lighter, as if the subject in choice made the situation so much clearer. Dalia’s hands itched to curl into fists, and the anger at the lack of proper Divination education was bubbling at the top of her throat, just begging to be ranted out at this woman who didn’t think her speciality was ‘important’. 

“Mum, don’t be silly. Divination can be one of the most useful trends of magic, when done properly.” Bill cut in. Dalia, once again, was irritated by someone speaking up for her. But, she didn’t want to be rude. She flexed her fingers, and they cracked, and she felt a surge of magic trickle down her forearms. It flared in her elbows, and then her shoulders, and then up her neck and, as was usual for Dalia, she suddenly knew things. 

“You’ve experienced a great loss in your life.” She said suddenly, her voice hardening. Molly looked up at her sharply. 

“Excuse me?” The woman said simply. Bill looked at her with concern painting his handsome features. Dumbledore seemed mildly amused. Dalia tapped her finger loudly against the wooden table. 

“A great tragedy. A double loss. Could be mirrored, without caution. Don’t let your son out the night when the beasts come to war.” 

“Son?” Molly looked wildly between Dalia and Bill, seeming unable to decide if she should be frightened or annoyed. “Which son? Beasts? What beasts?” 

“An attack.” Dalia said with a nod, tapping her finger faster, louder. “A tower. Don’t let your son out. Don’t let him protect.” 

“Which son!” Molly cried, fright having seemed to win her inner battle. Dumbledore slowly put a hand over Dalia’s, and the finger tapping stopped. She felt a slight ache between her shoulders, a result of her channeling being blocked, and she snapped her eyes to the old man’s face. The expression he wore was neutral, if not slightly bemused, but his eyes carried warning. So she let the signal fade. She could pick it up later, anyway, if Molly wanted to know more. The woman looked about ready to explode, suddenly clutching at Bill, cooing over his hands, making him promise her he wouldn’t do anything stupid. 

“So, are you… A seer?” Bill finally asked after he’d managed to brush his mother off, his father- Arthur- swooping in with some sort of distraction. Dalia took a tentative sip of her tea before shaking her head. 

“No, not a seer. There are lots of methods of divination, you know. Seers are just-.. They, I mean. They can, like, see the future. A set future. Something that will inevitably happen whether you like it or not. Like- like the oracle of Delphi. She was a seer.” 

Bill nodded, but stayed quiet. Dalia paused for a moment, and he made a motion for her to go on. 

“I’m- well, I have what’s called Intuition. There are a couple different forms of Intuition. Mis- um. Dick Hallorann, he’s a leading figure head in the labeling of like, the different types of divination methodologies. There are some, even, that you can learn without any sort of gift. Like reading cards, for example.” 

“Reading cards?” 

“Yeah- like, tarot usually, for beginners.” Her hand flexed as she spoke, as if it missed her deck the moment she thought of it. A lump of magic swelled in her chest, and her cards whispered from their place in her coat pocket. 

“Tarot? I thought that that was just.. Muggle magic.” Bill had rested his chin in his hand, leaning forward in his chair. Ophelia’s laughing face flashed in Dalia’s mind, and her finger began rapping again of its own accord. 

“You were in love with my sister?” 

Bill froze, eyes flashing with hurt. Dumbledore’s hand came over her’s once again. Dalia let out a small frustrated noise, screwing her eyes closed as the dull ache returned. 

“That’s enough showing off now, love.” The man’s calm voice said in a low and steady hum. Beneath his, Dalia’s hand balled into a fist.   
“I’m not doing it on purpose.” She hissed between grit teeth. The ache was getting stronger. She needed to stretch. She needed to take a walk. She needed to get out of this crowded room. She needed to be back home- back with Mr. Hallorann, and Danny, and her tulips that had yet to sprout. She wondered if Danny would keep his promise of popping by to water them every now and then. Probably not, she mused. He was never really the reliable type. 

Dumbledore’s silence grew heavy, and Bill had shifted away from Dalia, turning to the conversation Evander was engaged in, obviously uncomfortable. Memories of spilling secrets she hadn’t meant to ripped through Dalia’s psyche as she was left alone at the crowded table.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE.**

* * *

Evander and Dalia had decided to grab a coffee in Hogsmeade before he left her at Hogwarts. It was a weird, queasy morning, and Dalia found herself surprised at how much she missed Ilvermorny. Her little home in New Jersey. Danny. 

They were sitting at a place called Madam Puddifoot, a tea shop that looked as though Victorian Barbie had puked all over the interior. Dalia rather liked it, honestly, and the warm cup between her hands seemed to bat down the strange, first day of school deja vu she’d been experiencing all day. It being summer, and still two weeks away from the student populace arriving, the tea shop was eerily empty and quiet. 

“That shit smells horrible.” Evander deadpanned as Dalia brough the cup to her lips. She took a tentative sip, and wrinkled her nose slightly. 

“Doesn’t taste that great either. I miss cold brew.” She set the cup down gently, and figured she probably wouldn’t pick it up again. Evander made a small noise of agreement, and snagged one of the biscuits she’d gotten for herself from her plate. It had been weird, these past few weeks of staying with Evander. There was still a tense feeling between them, but it had lessened. Slackened, Evander commented one night when they’d gotten a little too drunk and tried to talk about it. She realized she didn’t really know her brother at all, as she had watched him during the Order meetings. There hadn’t been much for her to do during them; she’d caught a few glimpses of the kids here and there, but they’d always stayed away from the meetings for fear of Molly’s wrath. 

“I could probably make my own, actually. Do you think they carry coffee beans here?” 

Evander shrugged, his expression disinterested. 

“I mean, probably. They probably have it at that little market thing, towards the end of town, if not. But I’ve heard there are house elves in the kitchens. Bill told me they’ll make you whatever you want, and figures that since you’re going to be a prof, you’ll probably get access or something.” 

Dalia let out a little sound, and Evander looked up from where he’d been dipping another stolen cookie in his tea. She pouted exaggeratedly. 

“No pukwudgies.” Her tone was childish, and Evander laughed slightly through his nose, snorting a little. 

“No, not in England.” His response lilted. Dalia remained quiet, thinking longingly for the grumpy little creatures that worked as Ilvermorny’s helpers. “Listen, Dalia. Um- I was thinking, maybe we could-...” He trailed off, and cleared his throat as Dalia blinked her attention at him. “Connect the floo that’ll be in your, I dunno, room or office or whatever, to the one in my apartment. So that, you know, you could call me. Whenever.” He trained his eyes stubbornly at his tea, working his jaw. Dalia studied him for a few moments. 

“Big brother, are you worried about me?” She said playfully. Evander rolled his eyes aggressively, but said nothing. Dalia’s face split into a grin. “You are worried about me!” When his silence continued, her grin grew bright. “Do I finally get the protective older brother I’ve only been dreaming about for the past seventeen years?” 

Evander snapped a glare up at her. 

“I’ve always been protective.” He said in an even tone. Dalia shrugged. 

“Didn’t feel that way.” She muttered, picking at the lacy tablecloth. Evander let out a deep sigh, scrubbing a hand across his face and threw his hair as he sat back in his seat. 

“You never wondered why nobody asked you to the Hallow’s Eve dance?” 

Dalia’s face contorted in horror. 

“That was you? I thought I was- I just assumed- I mean- I’d always-” She was sputtering as Evander donned a crooked grin, crossing his arms defiantly. “Please, Evander, tell me you didn’t.” Dalia continued. His grin widened, and Dalia let out a little cry, burying her head in her hands. “Nevermind, I take it back. I never want an older brother. Those years were horrible.” 

Evander sniffed. 

“Couldn’t have any dirty hands on my baby sister, now could I.” He said in a very serious tone. Dalia slid down in her chair. 

“I’d just assumed nobody liked me.” Her voice came out sounding smaller than she’d intended. Evander leaned his crossed elbows on the table, shrugging, having the audacity to at least look a little sheepish. 

“Yeah I might have uh-” He cleared his throat, “-Might’ve gone a little overkill. But that was the year we weren’t talking so- I guess, maybe, part of it was... “ 

“That you hated me.” Now Dalia’s voice really did sound small. And broken. Fuck. How was she supposed to be a role model? She was still struggling over finishing her lesson plans. The previous divination professor had been very adamant that she go over them before school started. The horizon was not looking bright on that one. Across from her, Evander sighed again, but this time a deeper, sadder sigh. 

“I never hated you, Dalia. Just-...Blamed you. But, you already knew that.” 

“You still do.” Beneath the table, Dalia’s finger was tapping out a rhythm on her thigh. 

“I don’t.” Evander’s voice was firm. No questions on this one, it told her. But the magic pounding against her spine told her otherwise. 

“You do. You blame me for all of them, now. You just don’t want to admit it because you’re worry you’ll fuck up the inve-” 

“Oh, fuck, you’re doing the finger thing aren’t you.” Evander cried out suddenly, looking around frantically for her hands. Dalia was shaking her head, but her finger continued to tap, and her brain was lit with magical words, information that was not her own. “Dalia, where’s your- come on man, you can’t just- would you stop-” He was hissing at her now, trying desperately not to make a scene despite being the only people in the cafe. But Dalia kept talking in an even tone, telling him that this investigation was fruitless, that there wasn’t any real reason to doubt his fellow Order members, that he should be more cautious where he carries his blame. The two siblings hissed and sputtered at one another until Evander stood abruptly, flinging his hands up in defeat and stalking towards the exit. 

It took him fifteen minutes to sulk back in. Dalia had drunk his tea by then, and hers had been vanished, and the biscuits were gone. She gave him a bitter look as he dragged the chair out loudly, dropping into it heavily. They were quiet, Dalia glaring, Evander slumped and eyes on the ground. 

“Do you want to get something for your office, maybe? My treat.” The guilt in Evander’s voice was blatant, but the promise of retail therapy was all it took for Dalia’s forgiveness. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Evander left Dalia in Professor McGonagall’s office. She was clutching a trio of little succulents to her chest, and a bag of various pink and yellow knick knacks hung over one shoulder. The moment the flames died away in the hearth, Dalia was hit with the overwhelming sense of a child starting their first day at school. Or maybe a kid being left at a sleepover for the first time. She felt rather silly, seeing as Evander would be back tomorrow to connect their floos. And also seeing as this time, instead of a student starting at a new school, she was going to be the teacher. The idea made her dizzy and bile hovered in the back of her throat. 

“Dalia Raycroft.” Dalia’s eyes snapped to the woman who had spoken. Minerva McGonagall was a commanding presence, but also had the air of what Dalia could only really assume was motherly. Her eyes were warm, and her smile small but kind as she took the girl in. Dalia shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, hugging her plants closer to her chest. “I knew your parents, you know.” 

Dalia’s face warmed. 

“Both of them?” She tried her best to speak louder than a whisper. 

“Of course. Your mother was such a character. Ophelia was a lot like her.” 

“Yeah, dad always said that. Like Ophelia was mom’s carbon copy, or something.” 

There was a moment of silence. 

“I’m sorry.” Professor McGonagall said, and Dalia gave a questioning glance. “To hear about all those you’ve lost.” The woman clarified. Dalia shrugged, shifting again. 

“I’ve always known it would happen.” She said, and it was true. There was a distinct lack of mourning in her chest, something that had always bothered the people around her. She’d come to terms with the losses a long time ago, far before they were gone. It was just a matter of how they went she hadn’t been prepared for. Or the secrets that were revealed in their wake. 

“Shall I show you to your quarters?” 

  
  
  


The Divination classroom smelled of incense and black tea and dust. Professor McGonagall showed Dalia a hidden door that led into her new office, which they’d completely cleaned out for her convenience. A small table in the corner held a kettle and some tea cups. A shelf in the back had a few books on various Divination practices. There was a large fireplace and a pinkish grey porcelain pot with floo powder. Tucked behind the fireplace was another door, and it opened into a simple bedroom. Trelawany had taken most of her things with her, Professor McGonagall explained, and the sheets and bedding were new. A small bathroom off to the side, with fluffy white towels and a large mirror above the sink. The window in the bedroom looked out over the castle, as the classroom was up in the North Tower, and looking out it made Dalia slightly woozy. 

“Breakfast starts at 6:30,” Professor McGonagall was saying, swiping harshly at the duvet before sitting on it stiffly, “Lunch is at 12, and dinner at 6. Food will sit on the table for about two hours before it’s vanished. There are ten minute increments between class periods but usually it takes a little while for students to reach classrooms like this one.” 

“What do you mean?” Dalia asked absently, trying to arrange her new plants on the windowsill. 

“Well, there’s a lot of stairs to get up here.” The woman responded. Dalia sighed.

“I’m going to be fit as fuck when this is over, huh.” 

Mirth flashed across Professor McGonagall’s face. 

“Yes, I suppose, stairs will do that to a person.” 

“What about the kids?” 

“What about them?” 

“Are they…” Dalia twisted her hands together, thinking about how Ilvermorny students would sometimes mock and jeer at their teachers. How many kids never turned up to class altogether. How much bullshit people would give the younger teachers. “Like, nightmares?” 

Professor McGonagall barked a laugh, and it surprised Dalia slightly.

“Some are.” The woman relayed, “But most are fine. Draco Malfoy can get a little spritely, but he’s never been one to really speak out in class. The only ones I’d warn you to keep an eye out for are-” McGonagall eyed her wearily, “-The Weasley twins.” 

“Weasley?” Dalia repeated, feeling a tug of familiarity. “As in, Bill and Molly Weasley?” 

“Bill, and Molly, and Percy and Fred and George and Ron and Gin-” McGonagall was speaking with a heavy tone, and then something seemed to dawn on her. “Ah, Percy’s graduated already. So then, I would  _ especially  _ warn you to look out for the twins. Nobody to keep them in check this year, with Wood gone.” She sighed. “Hopefully that won’t affect the team.” 

“Team?” 

“Quidditch?” 

“Oh. That’s like Quodpot, right?” 

“It’s similar.” 

Dalia nodded absently. She didn’t care much for sports, especially at school level. She already knew who would win by the time she saw the teams. 

“Would you like your castle tour now or after the staff meeting?” McGonagall asked timidly into the silence that followed. Dalia looked around the room, feeling overwhelmed. “After, then.” The woman said without Dalia having to respond, and she stood, straightening out her robes. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Miss Raycroft. I look forward to working with you this year.” 

Dalia nodded, and Professor McGonagall was gone before she could ask where the staff meeting would be. Or when. 

“Welp.” She said to her plants, “Fuck.” 

The plants didn’t reply. Dalia sighed heavily, and reached for her trunk that had been stored at the end of the bed, where Evander had brought it earlier that morning. From it she pulled out a beaten looking landline. 

In the US, floo-calls were a little dated. People still used them, but mostly for short conversations or just a warning before popping through. They used owls, sometimes, but really they used old telephones. Beaten, discarded no maj objects would be re-enchanted to work upon command. They worked without electricity, and Dalia placed it in the middle of her new desk, in her new office, and contemplated. It was a standard white trimline phone with little flowers that floated open and closed across the top. Mr. Hallorann had given it to her before she’d graduated, and they used it often. She should probably call him. Or maybe she could call Evander. Or Alastor, and see what he was up to. Did Alastor have a phone? 

She held the phone to her ear, and told it to call Danny Torrance. 

  
  


Danny Torrance was five years old when his no maj father was placed under the Imperius curse by fans of Voldemort and tried to kill Danny and his no maj mother. They’d managed to get away with their lives, but not without consequence, and Danny’s mother had been elated when Dick Hallorann turned up, letting them know that there was a special school for people like Danny- people who were gifted in things that nobody should plausibly be gifted in. 

Danny had been two years ahead of Dalia when she started at Ilvermorny, but the moment Hallorann had realized her talents in divination, he’d set up special classes with just the two of them in the hopes that they could be there for one another. Dalia, who was fairly distant from her siblings and had long ago accepted that her father would be absent in her life, took to Danny quickly. They were good friends- the only friends, really, that either one managed to have in the rest of their years at school. Danny was weird, and quiet, and didn’t say much. Dalia spoke too much- knew too much, constantly blurting things the moment her magic picked up on channels she couldn’t quite grapple around. 

And so Danny took up the older brother spot Dalia was desperately craving in her life, and she took up any spot Danny had to offer. They were good together- easy. 

“Hey Doc.” Dalia said warmly when Danny had picked up on the first ring. Dalia hated nicknames, but Danny had insisted. He’d even given her a nickname of her own, and he was the only one who’d been allowed to.

“Hiya Cards.” His voice was rough, like he’d just woken up. 

“Oh, fuck, I forgot about the time difference. Did I wake you?” 

His laugh was hoarse. 

“Don’t worry about it. I should’ve been up an hour ago. How’s it going?” Dalia merely sighed, and Danny hummed a little. “That bad huh.” 

“No, it’s not bad. I guess. I dunno- I just feel so…. Weird. Like I’m not supposed to be here?” 

“Feel or feel feel?” Danny meant her Intuition. 

“Just feel. I think.” 

“You think?” 

Dalia paused. “Yeah. I think.” She sighed again, leaning back in her chair, stubbornly not looking out the large window in her new office. Sunlight poured in across the desk, and it made the room feel stuffy and warm. Wind whistled past and rattled the window. Dalia started to chew on a fingernail. 

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” The familiarity of the question made her want to cry. 

“I’m just a little homesick, I think.” 

“Already?” 

“From the minute I left. How’re my tulips doing, by the way?”

Danny didn’t reply, simply laughing a little. They were quiet for a moment, and it sounded like he was moving about, doing something. 

“How’re you?” Dalia asked finally. 

“Fine.” He sounded tense, but Danny always sounded tense. 

“Just fine?” 

“Just fine.” 

“Hm.” 

“Meet anyone interesting yet?” 

“No.” She paused. That was a lie. “Well, yes. Maybe.” 

“Maybe?” 

“I met a man who was in love with my sister. And his mother.” 

“That sounds fucking weird.” 

The bluntness of his statement caused a laugh to rip from Dalia’s throat. She clapped her hand over her mouth, startled by the reaction. Then tears really did prick her eyes. She hadn’t registered how much she missed her friend. How much she wanted to go back to having to keep an eye on him, instead of strangers. 

“It was.” She admitted after regaining her composure. Danny’s laugh was low and crackled through the phone. She itched to be able to see his face; to watch him laugh. It’d been a while since they’d laughed together. 

“What about the school? What the hell is Hogwarts like? Is Dumbledore anything like Hawthorne?  
Hawthorne had been the Head Administrator for Ilvermorny. He was a tall and spindly man with dark hair and darker eyes that peered through dirty spectacles. Dalia thought about the way he’d wander the halls, looking for conversation with students, always aiming to make sure that school was good, how it could be better, that the kids were happy. Her heart ached to see him again. 

“No, Dumbledore’s different. Like, super different. And the school is… Um, small, I guess. Or like, smaller. Or, well, no that’s not true. It’s like- the rooms are smaller. And the hallways. Like things are maybe… Tighter? But there are more rooms and hallways, if that makes sense?” 

“Yeah, I can see that. You’re probably still going to get lost though.” 

Dalia groaned. 

“I literally was trying to forget about that. I forgot to ask the lady where the staff meeting would be. And like, when. Fuck, I’m so stupid.” 

“Someone will figure it out.” Danny was smiling, she could hear it in his voice. 


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR.**

* * *

It took a while for someone to figure it out, and within that amount of time Dalia managed to unpack all her clothes into the dresser, place her little knick knacks about her new office, and make herself a pot of coffee. She was just starting to really contemplate her new classroom (which she thought looked rather tacky and cliche and was itching to redecorate) when a tall man flung the door open. 

Dalia jumped at the sound, and clutched her new mug to her chest. The man had long dark hair and a tight expression, wearing a simple pair of black slacks and a high collared black shirt. 

“The staff meeting.” He said as way of greeting, “I’ve been sent to get you.” It sounded like he was trying to pretend he wasn’t out of breath, and Dalia bit her lips to keep from snorting at him. 

“Oh, super cool. I was considering sending Professor McGonagall a patronus.” She said lightly. She turned to get her wand, and he hovered in the doorway. “I’m Dalia, by the way. Dalia Raycroft.” As she emerged, tucking her wand behind her ear, she offered him a hand. He took it lightly, giving one weak shake, and then dropping it as if it had burned him. Dalia narrowed her eyes just slightly, but did her best to ignore the channel calling out to her, choosing to grip her mug tightly so as to keep her finger from tapping. 

“Severus Snape.” The man informed her after an awkward lull. They just stood there looking at one another, and Dalia took a moment to really analyze this man she was supposed to befriend. He seemed tense, like he was ready for everything to cave in at any moment. Nervous, but hardened. A little like Danny, she figured. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard. 

“Do I call you Severus or Snape?” She said lightly. He blinked down at her. “It just, like, I dunno. People call one another by last names here. I’m still not sure if I’m allowed to call um- McGonagall Minerva, or whatever.” 

He blinked again. “I prefer Snape, in front of students.” 

“And when we’re not in front of students?” 

Snape’s mouth wavered, and then moved to a frown. “I don’t suspect we’ll see much of one another in those circumstances.” 

Dalia hummed, and then shrugged. “You never know.” 

He raised a brow at the way she emphasized ‘you’. She just smiled at him innocently, and gestured towards the door. 

“I don’t want to keep anyone waiting.” 

His turn was sharp and slightly dramatic, and once again Dalia had to bite her lips from scoffing. What a strange man. He looked young- or, at least, younger than Professor McGonagall. Definitely not her age, but still sort of young for a teacher. Would the other professors be younger as well? A sudden surge of hope flared in Dalia’s chest as she followed Snape. She was slightly slower than him, taking her time so has not to spill her coffee whilst he bounced down the stairs in front of him. He didn’t pause when they finally reached the end of the spiraling staircase, setting off at a brisk pace down the hall. Dalia hurried a little to keep up. 

“What do you teach?” She asked politely after finally reaching his side, trying her best not to sound winded. 

“Potions.” He muttered. Dalia contemplated this. 

“Do you have witch hazel?” He looked down at her in confusion. “Uh, it’s for my skin.” 

“Your skin?” 

“Yeah. I’m breaking out- here, see?” She pointed to where she could feel a pimple pushing just underneath her chin. He quirked a brow and his lips wavered slightly, and Dalia hoped to the heavens that this meant he was amused. She wasn’t good at making friends with most people, but slightly awkward angry men seemed easier to her. At least they liked when she would just babble. Or, well, Danny did. Maybe if she just treated Snape like Danny, everything would work out fine. 

“Aren’t there creams for things like that?” His tone suggested he truly didn’t know. Dalia shrugged a little, dropping her hand back to her cup. They were coming to another set of stairs now. She readied her cup, tucking it close as she went to go down them. But Snape caught her elbow just before the staircase lurched, and Dalia ended up covered in hot coffee. 

“Fuck.” She muttered, untucking her wand and casting a wordless Scourgify. Then she looked around. “What? The fuck?” 

“The staircases move.” Snape supplied in a monotone voice. Dalia shot him an incredlious look. 

“They do? I didn’t notice.” Her response was laced with sarcasm, and Snape’s lips really did manage to point upwards for a moment, his eyes lighting with amusement. Dalia sniffed, flipping her hair behind her shoulder and looking around the hall. All the staircases were moving, clicking, shifting. 

“Do they work on like, a time schedule, or…” 

“Honestly, I don’t think anyone’s managed to really figure that out. They just move. You just gotta watch. There’s a telltale shift in magic before they do- you’ll get the hang of it.” His words sounded as though they were meant to be reassuring, but his tone was slightly condescending. Dalia chose to ignore it. 

“Also, yeah, there are creams. For pimples. But my skin is kind of temperamental, and like, I like to make my own stuff for it. I think it has something to do with my magic. I break out whenever I’m in a different magical space, if that makes sense. So like, if I apply something to it that I’m not totally sure of, it could just get worse.” 

“I didn’t realize skincare was so complicated.” The man sounded absent and disinterested. Dalia shot a look his way, and studied his face just before the staircase clicked into place. And then he was doing that tense skip hop down the stairs again. Yeah, he wouldn’t know, would he, Dalia thought to herself in frustration. A cluster of acne sat just below his ear. She wondered if maybe she could make something to help with it. She was usually good at doing that- Danny had had atrocious skin before they’d really become friends. But she bit her lip, keeping any rude comments inside. 

“Where do we have staff meetings?” She asked instead, once again having to quicken her strides to keep up with his long and even ones. 

“In the staff room.” He said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Dalia considered it probably was. 

* * *

The staff room was stiflingly warm. Why these stupid British wizards insisted on keeping fireplaces lit despite it still being summer Dalia could never understand. Sure, the stone cooled the building slightly, and Scotland was always chilly, she supposed. But still, with all the bodies and carpets and tapestries in the small room, a fire was far from necessarily. The warmth was making Dalia drowsy, but the coffee kept her jittery, so she was this sleepy, fidgety mess in the high backed seat next to Snape and across from an older woman dressed all in pink. They were seated at the end of the table, and Dumbledore at the head, speaking softly as he went over details about the upcoming semester. 

They were to have lesson plans in by Friday, which was four days away, and something that Dalia was dreading. Meals wouldn’t begin until the students arrived, but they were welcome to visit the kitchens whenever. 

“And, of course,” Dumbledore was saying, standing and gesturing towards the end of the table, where Dalia sat, “Let’s give a warm welcome to our newest members. Dolores Umbridge and Dalia Raycroft.” 

Dalia simply offered a small wave, but blinked in surprise when Dolores stood from her chair. 

“Thank you Albus.” She said primly, gazing around the room with careful, beady eyes. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, there’s been some discourse at the Ministry about some…. Tasteful opinions floating around this summer. I have accepted the rare opportunity to help meld the wonderful young minds of the new generation, and I hope you all are well aware of this beautiful privilege we’ve been given.” Everyone was quiet, and an uncomfortable atmosphere had settled as the woman spoke. “After the unfortunate… Mishap, that occurred last year, I assure you all that we will turn this old and great administration around. I hope we can all be friends.” She ended her little speech with a tight and vaguely threatening smile before sitting down. The room was silent, and it seemed almost as if everyone was stunned. Dalia chewed on her lip, staring at Dolores, before looking back down the rest of the table. 

“Am I also supposed to say something?” She asked lightly, and bit back a grin as a few chuckles emitted from the table. The atmosphere relaxed slightly, despite Dolores’s twitching face. 

“If you’d like.” Dumbledore said, amusement twinkling in his gaze. Dalia paused, considering, and then cleared her throat and stood up. 

“Teaching is one of the absolute most important positions in society, and I’m beyond thrilled to be able to work alongside such talented and established individuals.” Her tone turned to a slightly playful tilt, “Please don’t make fun of Divination to my face- I will most definitely take it personally. And-” She flashed a grin, “I hope we can all be friends.” As Dalia sat, she caught Professor McGonagall’s eye, and there was mirth there once more. Dolores shifted, seeming slightly irritated by the situation. 

After the meeting was adjourned, Dalia met the rest of the teachers and staff, and found the caretaker- Argus Filch (“You can call me Argus”)- had quite a lovely cat. As she and Dolores moved to coo over the animal, Dalia glanced up at her shyly. 

“Both the new kids, huh.” She said quietly. Dolores barely looked her way. 

“You are, I’m sure.” 

Dalia paused. “Definitely feel like one.” Dolores sniffed, and straightened, and left without saying a word. 

“She seems lovely.” Snape drawled, coming up to stand beside the younger woman. Dalia sighed heavily, looking down at the cat named Ms. Norris who was rubbing up against her leg and purring loudly. 

“I always hated the first day of school.” Dalia commented jokingly. She revelled in the snort Snape gave her. 

“Did you still want that witch hazel?” 

“What?” Dalia blinked up at him. He was much taller than her. “Oh! Fuckin- yeah! For sure.” 

Snape started off at his brisk pace without saying anything else, and Dalia floundered her goodbyes to the rest of the staff before hurrying after him. 

“Everything is so old looking.” She mused conversationally when the silence between them became slightly awkward. Snape merely hummed, glancing at her slightly. She didn’t notice, looking straight up at the high ceilings, neck craned at an impossible angle. A cackling startled her, and Snape snorted once more when she jumped. Peeves dove suddenly overhead, dropping cold water below him. Dalia, without thinking, cracked a Protego, and the thin blue magic flickered as the water hit it. 

“Nice reflexes.” Snape commented idly as the shield faded away. Peeves did little somersaults in the air, and then began to whistle as he floated away. 

“It’s bad luck to whistle inside.” Dalia said instinctively. Snape regarded her wearily. 

“Is it?” 

Dalia hadn’t heard him, gaze flitting to where Peeves had been. “What the fuck was that, anyway? A ghost?” 

“Poltergeist.” Snape supplied. Dalia hummed. 

“Never seen a poltergeist.” She commented. “But- you do have ghosts here, right?” 

“Yes.” 

She paused for a moment, hoping he’d go on, but he didn’t, and so she huffed a little. They were quiet once again, and Dalia wondered how on earth was this supposed to work. Was she supposed to be getting information from him? Did she really have to be his friend, or could they just be civil colleagues? There was obviously a sense of comradery already present from being the youngest in the staff, but what that enough for what Dumbledore wanted from her? And what about what Alastor wanted? Was she supposed to somehow be close to Dumbledore? The questions pressed against Dalia’s temples, and she could feel the dull pain she usually had in between her shoulder blades begin to creep up towards her neck. 

“Say, Potions master, do you have anything for headaches?” She asked suddenly. 

“Do you have a headache?” His tone was deadpan, and Dalia thought for a moment he might even be amused by the abruptness of the question. 

“I will. I think. It’s going to rain.” 

Snape turned his head as they passed a window. The sun filtered in lazily. His gaze turned back to her, brows raised, as if the statement was ridiculous. She shrugged, her finger tapping lazily against her leg. 

“It is. I can feel it.” 

“Feel it?” 

“I am the new professor of fortune tellings, aren’t I?” 

“I thought we weren’t supposed to make fun of that to your face.” 

Dalia’s mouth dropped open, and the corners of Snape’s mouth went up slightly. “Fine.” She said, crossing her arms and tilting her face away from him playfully. “Make fun of me all you want, but you’ll eat your words when it really does rain tonight.” She probably didn’t even need to have Intuition to know that. Everyone knows you get a headache right before it rains. Something to do with the pressure in the air, right? She wasn’t sure. She’d never been very good at the Muggle Sciences. Then again, most wizards weren’t. She wasn’t even sure if they actually had such a class here. 

“You’re American.” Snape said after a while. They were walking down more and more staircases now, and Dalia idly registered that he probably was taking her towards the dungeons. Wasn’t Professor McGonagall supposed to have given her a tour after the meeting? Fuck, and she hadn’t even said anything before they left. That’s embarrassing. 

“What an astute observation.” 

“Astute? Big word for an American.” 

“Hardy har har.” Dalia made a face, scrunching everything before sticking her tongue out at Snape. And then she blushed. That wasn’t very teacher like of her. Fuck. Snape, however, was looking down at her with blatant amusement flickering across his features. He was far from a handsome man, at least, in Dalia’s opinion. But he did seem slightly cute when he made that expression. 

“Did you attend school in America?” He obviously chose not to comment on her childish behaviour, and Dalia was thankful for it. Her ears burned as she brought her thumb up to her mouth, chewing on it absently. 

“Yeah. Duh. I went to Ilvermorny.” 

“Does Hogwarts seem very different?” 

“Um-” Dalia gazed around. They really must be in the dungeons now, and it was dark, and cold, and smelled slightly damp. The air was slightly refreshing, actually, compared to the staff room’s suffocating warmth and brightness. “-Yeah. It’s pretty different.” 

“Good different or bad?” Snape’s tone was getting lighter, as if being in the dungeons made him more comfortable. 

“Just different.” Dalia elected to say, ripping her hand from her mouth and clasping it behind her as Snape went to a door, keys jangling as he unlocked it. 

“This is my store room. I’d rather you not come to it alone- but, if you need something, you’re more than welcome to ask.” 

Dalia blinked at the small closet lined with strange jars. She followed Snape in slowly, peering at something murky and brown and realizing that something was staring back at her. 

“Are these ethically obtained?” The words came out of her without thinking, and she cringed, looking at Snape apologetically. “Sorry, that sounded kind of condescending. I meant like- well- you know- there’s a lot of issues with getting uh- parts and things for- potions and shit and-” 

“You should probably work on that mouth of yours before classes start.” Snape interrupted dryly. He held out a small bunch of flowers. Witch hazel. Dalia bit her lip and gave him an appreciative look. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I get in trouble for it a lot, actually.” 

“How are you going to use this for your face?” 

She paused, playing with the dried buds. 

“Fuck. I need to boil them.” 

“Language.” His tone was playful. Dalia’s face burned. “You’re welcome to borrow a cauldron, if you need. I have a couple spare small ones that I rarely use.” 

“That’d be great, actually, yeah.” Dalia breathed. She looked around the storeroom, suddenly very aware of how close the two of them were. She took a step back. “Do you have more flowers? Or- like, where do you get them?” 

“The market. I go on weekends, usually, during the term.” 

“Neat.” The word came out absently as Dalia studied the herbs on the shelf behind his ear. He turned, looking between them and her. 

“Did you need something more?” 

“Roses?” 

“Sure.” 

He took a pair of clippers from the shelf next to him, turning and snipping another small bouquet from where they hung upside down above their heads. 

“They’re dried though, I hope that’s okay.” 

“Yup!” 

There was an awkward moment as she took the flowers from him, hugging them to her chest.

“Oh, fuck.” She said suddenly, louder than she’d intended. Snape’s brow furrowed. 

“Seriously, Raycroft, language.” The teasing tone was gone, replaced with something that could have been interpreted as… Worry, maybe?

“Sorry it’s just- I just realized I like- I fucking forgot my fucking mug.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE.**

* * *

Snape had to walk her all the way back to the storeroom, where they met a rather amused looking Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore. Dalia got her tour of the castle, carrying her new flowers in her mug, and when she arrived back in her office, a small cauldron sat on her desk. She was exhausted, and a little too nervous about trying to find the kitchens again after such a long day. 

A pop towards the corner of her new office made her nearly have a heart attack, and she clutched at her chest, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to even her breathing. 

“Oh, Babdey is very sorry missus!” A voice squeaked from where the pop had come from, and Dalia whirled around to find a small leathery looking grey creature peering up at her. She’d seen house elves before, of course. Her grandparents had had one, and she had dim memories of the sweet little thing, but she’d never really spoken to her. 

“It’s alright.” Dalia managed out, gripping the side of her desk. In all honesty, the little thing sort of freaked her out. She missed Ilvermorny’s helpers. They never were ones to come out of nowhere- very adamant about announcing their intention to enter a room. “Did you- uh, did you need something?” 

The elf- Babdey, Dalia assumed- brightened significantly before bowing so low his nose touched the floor. 

“Babdey helps the Divination missus. Every Divination missus, Babdey helps. Always always.” 

Dalia opened and closed her mouth, considering this information. 

“Do all the professors have elf help?” She asked before she could think better of it. Babdey shook his head. 

“No no, missus. Not exactly, missus. Only Babdey, Babdey likes Divination missus. Babdey enjoys the craft. Babdey likes to help!” 

“Oh.” Dalia managed out, unsure of what else to say. She cleared her throat. “So like how- how exactly does Bab- do you, help?” 

“Babdey can do whatever the missus needs! Get whatever missus needs! Always always.” 

“Do I- I mean, you like Divination?” 

The elf simply nodded enthusiastically. 

“Do you- like, want to learn it?” 

He then blinked his big watery eyes. There was no movement. 

“Should I take that as a yes?” 

Again, the elf said nothing. Dalia sighed, and glanced around the office. “Did the previous teacher teach you anything?” 

The elf brightened then. 

“Yes! Missus Trelawney taught Babdey all sorts of things! Missus taught Babdey about dreams and stars and cards and crystal balls! Missus Trelawney was always very kind to Babdey. Babdey hopes that new missus will also-” The elf hesitated, staring wide eyed up at Dalia, “-be kind?” 

Dalia felt herself softening a little. 

“Sure, Babdey. I’ll teach you some stuff.” 

The elf beamed, and then snapped his fingers. In his hands he held a plate heaped with pasta, smothered in sauce and cheese. 

“Missus is hungry, yes? Babdey has had dinner ready for Missus.” He offered it up to her. Dalia took it, very suddenly thankful that she wouldn’t go hungry tonight. She set it on the table and sat in her desk chair, going to take a bite. 

“So, Babdey, let’s go over what Trelawney has already shown you.” 

  
  


In all honesty, talking to the house elf helped Dalia feel a bit more relaxed about the whole situation. He constantly assured “Missus Raycroft” that she was being a wonderful teacher, and gave her somewhat of an idea of what Trelawney had already taught her students. Dalia was suddenly overcome with the desire to have actually spoken to the older Divination teacher before the woman had left, but Dumbledore had made it effectively impossible. They barely got letters to one another, and Trelawney’s owl was quite an efficient creature. 

Dalia also very much wanted to change up the classroom. She discussed this desire with Babdey, who reassured her that it would be very much okay by him, and that he was more than willing to help. She asked him if he could get his hands on a bunch of flowers for tomorrow, before he left, and he agreed quite adamantly. Dalia, feeling somewhat pleased with herself, enjoyed the rest of her dinner in silence. That was, until her muggle landline rang. 

“Dalia- you never called me.” Mr. Hallorann’s voice sounded strained through the phone- older, almost. Dalia bit back a sigh in response. 

“Sorry, man, I’ve been so overwhelmed with like.. Well, everything. And besides, you already knew that everything was okay.” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

Dalia paused. “Whaddya mean, you didn’t?” 

“Things don’t feel okay.” His voice was steadfast. Dalia hated when Mr.Hallorann got like this- like no questions asked. 

“Things feel okay to me.” She mumbled. 

“Feel okay, or feel feel okay?” 

Dalia paused, and acknowledged the uneasy feeling in her stomach. The tension headache she’d forgotten to ask Snape to help with. The strange ache in her fingertips. 

“I thought so. Have you been able to read your cards today?” 

“This is the only moment I’ve really gotten to myself.” 

“So read them now.”

“But Mister Hallora-” 

“Now, Dalia. Something’s wrong, I can feel it.”

Dalia sighed, and then put the phone down on the desk, padding over to the light jacket she’d worn when she’d walked up to the school with Evander. She fished out her deck, and them hummed urgently in response to her touch. They were antsy, she sensed, which was weird. They hadn’t been antsy since- well, since before Ophelia had died. 

She sat back down at her desk, picking the phone up and putting it between her cheek and shoulder as she shuffled the cards. 

“I really don’t understand what the big-” She began to say, but paused when a card lept from her hands. 

‘You’re in the wrong story.’ They informed her. She grunted a little. Another card. ‘Trouble. Death. Chaos’ 

“It’s just the same as always, Mister Hallorann.” 

“No, Dalia, this is different. Keep reading.” 

She sighed again, heavy, long, rolling her eyes with it. A card flipped over before she could touch it. The Lovers. She stilled, hand hovering. Then- Queen of Swords reversed. 

“There’s- okay. There could be something wrong.” She finally admitted. The cards told her that there was someone out to get her- that this someone was female. That Dalia should really look out for this woman. Dolores’s face flashed through her mind. 

“Pink. Pink, Dalia. Mind someone in pink.” Mr. Hallorann said resolutely. Dalia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Dolores.” She murmured. 

“What? Who?” The voice in the phone was urgent. Mr. Hallorann was always too serious about these things. How big of a threat could that little woman even really be? Especially in a place like this. 

“There’s another new professor- she’s, well, she’s kind’ve weird. But like, I can handle it Mister Hallorann. You know that.” 

“This isn’t about predicting your family’s deaths, Dalia. There are lives at danger that were not predestined. Lives that you’re in charge of. I can feel it.” 

Dalia grimaced and groaned. 

“What do you mean?” Her voice sounded mangled. 

“This is bigger than anything we’ve been working on. I knew it- you shouldn’t have taken this job. It’s too big for you- you’re still so young. I should have-” 

“Mister Hallorann, seriously, you’re making a big thing out of nothing-” 

“Don’t you understand the gravitas of what you’ve gotten into, Dalia?” His voice was harsher than Dalia had ever heard it, and the tone made her snap her mouth closed. Her face burned, which felt a little silly. She felt silly. She felt small. She felt like a child. 

“Mis-” 

“I’m going to get you out of this, Dalia. This is too much for you to be handling- you’re not ready for such a task.” 

“Dick.” Dalia said suddenly, feeling bold. Mr. Hallorann paused. “Seriously. I’m alright- I’m not in danger. I can feel- _feel feel_ , that I’m fine. Things will- they’re going to be okay. I’m-” She paused, and her finger started to tap against the cards laid out on the table before her. “I’m here to fix things. This is about fixing things that haven’t happened yet. Prevent them from happening at all. I’m here to-” It dawned on her, and she could feel the words. See them before her eyes, gold and glowing, the magic tingling in her spine happily, diminishing her dull aches and pains. “I’m here to change the story.” 

* * *

  
  
  


Dalia woke up to an owl rapping on her window anxiously. She sniffed and groaned as she got out of bed. Being this high up in the air made her room cold, and cold wind howled as she let the bird in. It carried a small piece of parchment, and she rolled her eyes when she read it. 

_so?_

_-am_

The owl scuffled across the windowsill, indicating that it wouldn’t leave unless she’d written back. Sighing, Dalia went into her office, and tugged a notebook she’d unpacked earlier. She tore out a blank page, and went to work writing. She wrote about her interactions with Snape, and how Dumbledore was fairly absent. Then she paused, and regarded the writing, and chewed on the end of her pen anxiously. Should she mention her conversation with Mr. Hallorann? Should she mention Dolores? Yes, she figured. He’d told her that he wanted to know everything, and she supposed too much information would be better than too little. Besides, he was Uncle Moody, and if something was worrying her, he was the person who would know what to do. Uncle Moody had always known what to do. 

At least, when she was little and he was still around, anyway. 

The thought brought up sharp feelings she hadn’t intended to revisit, and she shoved them away angrily. She put at the end that maybe he would consider getting an enchanted muggle phone? Then she folded the page up neatly, and gave it to the owl. 

It wasn’t much later that Evander appeared at her door. She had just gotten out of the shower, and her hair was still wet when Professor McGonagall and her brother called out from the classroom. 

“Jesus, this place looks like a circus tent.” Evander deadpanned as Dalia beckoned them into her office. 

“Yeah, well, it won’t look that way forever.” Dalia grumbled. “Wasn’t my design, anyway.” 

“I was gonna say- looks a little too tacky for my finicky little sister.” Evander reached out to tousle Dalia’s hair, and she was stunned by the action. It was probably for Professor McGonagall’s benefit, she mused, after glancing towards the older woman. 

“You plan on redecorating?” Professor McGonagall asked as Evander ducked to start casting on the floo. Dalia nodded, clasping her hands behind her back. 

“I hope that’s alright.” 

‘Oh, more than alright. This room is certainly looking brighter. Nicer than that Umbridge’s, anyway.” Her tone turned slightly bitter, and Dalia gave her an amused look. 

“Not a fan, then?” 

Professor McGonagall sniffed. “I rarely speak ill of a new colleague.” She said, but the tightness in her lip gave everything away. 

“Who’re we talking about?” Evander said, voice muffled by the fireplace. 

“Dolores Umbridge. She’s the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” Dalia supplied. There was a bang as Evander sat up too quickly, knocking his head against the edge of the fireplace. Dalia bit back a laugh as he looked wildly between the two of them. 

“Dolores Umbridge? As in, from the Ministry?” 

“Yes?” 

“Fuck.” Evander spat, going back to what he was doing. 

“What do you mean, fuck?” Dalia repeated incredulously. 

“Well, Umbridge’s kind of a bitch.” Evander said unhelpfully. Professor McGonagall, who’d by now helped herself to a cup of tea and sat at Dalia’s new desk, let out a little scoff. 

“Bitch is an understatement, really.” The older woman said quite evenly, blowing over her cup. Dalia blanched at the curse coming from her mouth, and then looked between the two of them anxiously.

“Well, what do we do? Mr. Hallorann called me last night. He’s really worried.” She began to twist her hands together, “He thinks I should quit and go home. Feels that I’m- that I’m not ready yet.” 

“Younger people have been tasked with much more difficult feats than teaching some children fortune telling.” Professor McGongall’s voice cut through before Evander could respond. Evander, who’d sat to look up at his younger sister, nodded at the comment. 

“How many times do I have to tell you, Dalia, this is war. We aren’t just fucking around here. You’ve got to take it all more seriously.” 

“Take what more seriously, Wizard Hitler?” Dalia had bristled at the tone of Professor McGongall’s comment, feeling as though she was mocking her. Evander had let out a little snort, but Dalia ignored it. “I’m just- I feel so removed from all of this. It’s like, not my fight you know? I’m just some sort of… Surveyor of everything.” 

“How is this not your fight? Death eaters killed both your mother and sister.” Professor McGongall’s voice was very matter of fact, as if she’d just commented on the weather. But the statement made Dalia’s blood go cold. 

“Ophelia was- but Evander said-” She whirled on her brother, who was grimacing and refusing to look her in the face. “You!” She bellowed, jabbing a finger his way, “You told me it was an accident. That she and Bill had been climbing and she’d fallen!” 

“Fallen?” Professor McGonagall said incredulously, “How on earth could a _fall_ have killed a girl like that?” 

Angry tears pricked at Dalia’s eyes, and she was breathing heavily- seething. Evander wouldn’t meet her eye, and she knew if he continued this act, she’d break his fucking nose. 

“I can’t believe- after everything- and you’d said- “ Her mouth kept spitting words but her brain was moving too fast for it to keep up. Evander’s mouth had set itself into a tight line. 

“Look, Dalia, you were still in school and so young and I-” 

“You what, Evander. You thought I shouldn’t know? I did know! I always know! I had told you it would happen- just like last time, I’d told you! And you made me believe that this whole time it’d been my fault that I-” her voice cracked, and she felt herself crumbling slightly. Grief she didn’t even know she possessed was slamming into her, knocking the wind from her lungs. How could Evander have lied to her like this? How could Ophelia have been so stupid? And she’d told them- she’d tried to warn them and they hadn’t listened to her. They’d brushed her aside as their crazy little sister and let her think that everything was because she didn’t try hard enough and- 

“Dalia, breathe.” Professor McGonagall was suddenly close, and her hands were on Dalia’s shoulders, blocking Evander from view. “Here we go- deep breaths, with me, ready? In, and-” 

Dalia closed her eyes as she grounded herself, concentrating on the older woman’s voice and flexing her hands. Magic crackled and popped up against her spine, and an immediate calming warmth bloomed in her chest. She opened her eyes, and found a concerned face peering back at her. 

“I’m sorry.” Professor McGonagall said, voice gentle and calm, “I didn’t realise you hadn’t known.” 

“I did know.” Dalia said in a small voice, feeling small and irrelevant. “I knew before it happened, and Evander told me I’d been wrong. That I was mixing Ophelia with our mom.” 

Understanding bloomed in Professor McGonagall’s eyes. She turned to Evander, who was now hovering slightly behind her, twisting his hands together. Dalia watched the movement, wondering when he started doing that. Had he always done that?

“I didn’t think she would die!” Evander cried out suddenly. Dalia blinked at the emotion in his voice. “Ophelia was so- I mean- you remember her. Bright and full of life and man, she was smart, you know? I didn’t think she would do something so stupid as to-” 

“Go and get herself killed.” Dalia whispered without meaning to. Evander flicked his eyes to her face before looking back at Professor McGonagall, nodding. The professor sighed, releasing Dalia and looking between the two of them with a stern expression. 

“Well, I’m no healer, and I greatly recommend that you two look into seeing one. That being said, Dalia, I do apologize for speaking so lightly of something that’s obviously a hard subject. I had no place.” 

Dalia nodded, lacing her fingers together, staring at Evander’s feet. He was wearing sneakers she’d never seen before, and they looked like they were held together by magic alone. 

There was an awkward pause, and Professor McGonagall let out a great sigh. “Evander, I do advise you to no longer keep Dalia in the dark about such important details. To quote you, ‘we aren’t just fucking around here’. Take this seriously. Obviously, Dalia is no longer a child, and doesn’t deserve to be treated as such.”

Evander shifted, and Dalia stubbornly kept studying his shoes.

“Yeah, you’re right, I know. Dalia, I’m sorry.” A pause. “Really.” Another pause. “Okay, this feels too uh, I dunno. Emotional? Man, like, I dunno. I’ll buy you lunch, or something?” 

Dalia, despite all the anger bubbling in her stomach and the panic still lingering in her throat, snorted. Then she looked up, and found Evander offering a pained smile.

“A lunch to make up for lying to me and making me feel crazy for two yeras?” 

His smile grew lopsided, and he rolled back onto his heels, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Yup. Feel like that’ll cover it.”Dalia let out a loud laugh despite herself, and Evander’s smile twisted into a sheepish grin. “I mean, am I wrong?” He looked over at Professor McGonagall, who had crossed her arms, watching the exchange with suggested amusement. 

“It better be a fucking amazing lunch.” Dalia commented. 

“Oh, well, no duh.” Evander expressed. “It’ll be the lunch of your goddamn life.” 

“Well in that case, seems like a fair deal.” 

“I’m going to go back to connecting the floo now.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“But we’ll get that lunch.” 

“Of course we will.” 

As Evander knelt back down, and Professor McGonagall awkwardly tried to start a new conversation, a silent understanding went between the two siblings; they weren’t going to get that lunch. They never would. But that was okay. 

* * *

  
  


It took the rest of the day for Dalia to officially finish her lesson plans. Then it took two days for Trelawney to go over them and send back approval. And then they had to go over what required reading she’d be assigning. She didn’t like the current textbook. It was outdated and underwhelming. Besides, Trelawney’s original lessons concerning dream analysis for the fifth years seemed a little… On the nose. Half baked. Dalia didn’t have the balls to let the woman know that, but she mentioned in a brief letter to the previous teacher that she’d be changing some details. Small things, she assured her. 

Dumbledore was pleased with the idea when she’d finally found him in the hallway. 

“Dalia, you’re the teacher now. You’re welcome to teach your students whatever is deemed important.” 

“As long as I adhere to the lesson outline.” Dalia had mumbled. Dumbledore’s mouth quirked in amusement. 

“As long as your students pass their OWLs and NEWTs, you’re more than welcome to teach whatever you’d like.” 

“Right. Are those different here than the ones in the US? Is there maybe like a workbook I could look at for reference or..” She trailed off. 

“Workbook?” 

“Yeah, or like a textbook or-” Dumbledore cut her off with a shake of his head and a raised hand. 

“Dalia, darling, you’re responsible for writing the test.” 

“I’m- what?” 

“Teachers here write their own tests. Hogwarts is technically a private institution, you know.” 

“But, like, I thought they’re supposed to be standardized and-” 

Dumbledore shrugged. Dalia frowned, contemplating the new information. She shifted from foot to foot. 

“Well, ok. I guess, in that case- Dick Hallorann, my mentor, he’s just published a book on the different types of divination skill and I- could we maybe get some copies of his book for the classroom?” 

“Put it on the reading list and the students will be able to get copies.” 

“I don’t want to make the students buy new books for one year.” Dalia commented absently, her hand finding its way to her mouth, a fingernail beginning to be chewed on. 

“They’ll have to for Dolores’s class regardless. It’s no big matter.” 

The chewing increased. 

“If you’ll excuse me, love, I really do have matters to attend to.” And then the man was gone. 

Dalia stood in the hall a little while longer, looking out the window, chewing on her nail. That’s how Snape found her, and he commented that she looked as though she’d just been informed of her own execution. 

“I uh, just found out that we have to write the OWL and NEWT tests.” She let him know, and to her surprise, Snape offered a small smile. 

“Ah, that realization does sound somewhat like an execution.” He commented in his low and drawling way. “But I’ve managed fine over the past few years. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” 

Dalia sighed, shaking the hand she’d been chewing on and running it through her hair. 

“I was thinking maybe I could add some things to the curriculum, then, but I’d have to ask students to buy a new textbook I guess.” 

“I see no problem there.” 

“Yeah, I guess I’m overthinking things.”

“Aren’t divinationists supposed to always know what to do?” His voice lilted teasingly. Dalia shot him a glare and reached out to push his shoulder lightly. Then she contemplated. 

“Probably, actually. Oh, hey, speaking of- would it be unprofessional to let my students smoke mugwort?” 

Snape’s eyebrows shot up. “Smoke…. What?” 

“Well, the previous teacher- Trelawney, right? Anyway, she was telling me about how the fifth years are supposed to be learning about dream analysis but like, the things she was going to have them do- like dream journaling or whatever- I mean, they’re practical and make sense but there’s so much more you can do with dreams and fortune telling, you know? So I was thinking like, I mean, my teacher had us smoke mugwort at around fourteenish-fifteen, which is how old these kids are, right? So-” She paused, stopping herself, feeling a little ridiculous under the look Snape was pinning her with. 

“What, exactly, does smoking mugwort do?” He asked carefully. Now it was Dalia’s turn to raise her brows. 

“A potions master who doesn’t know all the uses of his ingredients? Fascinating.” 

Snape sniffed. 

“I’ll have you know I’m more than educated on the uses of mugwort in potion making. But I’ve never heard of smoking it.” 

“Weren’t cool in school, huh?” 

Snape’s face hardened spectacularly, and Dalia sensed she’d hit a nerve. In fact, she knew she’d hit a nerve. She clenched her hands tightly behind her, fingernails digging into her palms. 

“Sorry. I wasn’t either. Being, like, a freak and all. I only really had one friend. Sorry. I’m sorry.” She rambled aimlessly, hoping desperately that she didn’t just fuck everything up for everyone by insulting the man she was supposed to befriend. But something softened in his eyes. 

“I was going to go to Hogsmead to restock on quills before term.” He told her. Dalia blinked. 

“Oh, okay.” 

There was an awkward moment. His cheeks seemed to tinge pink slightly, and suddenly Dalia understood that she had redeemed herself in a way she had not intended. 

“I could- I mean- maybe… I wouldn’t mind some company.” He said in a softer tone Dalia had yet to have heard him use over the past few days. 

“Oh… Oh! Okay.”


End file.
